


After the Storm

by bunnybi



Series: Sharing is Caring [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Caretaking, Confession, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron), S5-verse, Sickfic, keith has a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybi/pseuds/bunnybi
Summary: Keith was never one to contract illness with grace.And for most of his life, he had little choice but to tough it out on his own.And as much as he resented falling apart in front of the people he cared for...Maybe the support wasn't so bad?





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the second part~! I'm weak to role-reversal, so of course I had to torture Keith in this setup haha. Thank you guys so much for checkin' this out! I had so much fun writing this!

It was so loud.

Keith wearily blinked his eyes open. If morning was finally approaching, it was incredibly difficult to tell. Everything existing in the stagnant space before him could still only be recognized by vague outlines and muddy details. Occasionally a spec of colored light would flicker against the darkness from his radio or his computer tower, but they were of little use other than to assure Keith that his generator remained in working order.

The sandstorm outside was still in the heat of its wrath. Keith wasn’t entirely sure when it had started - but he knew he hadn’t slept for more than an hour before the rattling of his windows had startled him awake. It had taken him some time to realize what was going on; fight-or-flight initially taking a firm hold of him and putting him on high alert. But by then, the fever he’d been in denial of when he’d gone to bed had laid full siege against his body - rendering him immobile under turbulent chills and a biting headache. The vulnerability of it all was honestly pissing him off.

Acknowledging the storm brought him no closer to rest, however. He tried - for _hours_ , he tried. But the torrential assault of wind and sand against his home’s exterior had the wood groaning in protest. No matter how much he tried to push it out, it insisted on taking priority in his realm of awareness.

So Keith laid curled in a ball of defeat atop his lumpy futon; his body a trembling wreck. He instinctively pulled his thin blanket tighter against his frame, but it did nothing to ease his shaking. He noted a dull pain pressing into his muscles along the side of him currently in contact with his poor excuse for a bed, but he didn’t have the energy to move. 

A cautious attempt to clear his throat managed to somehow set it on fire, causing him to choke. Wet, destructive coughs tore through his chest. Every effort to catch his breath came in sharp, wheezing gasps - which only served to further agitate the searing pain within his throat. Desperate, he blindly reached to the coffee table in front of him; feeling around until he nearly knocked over his tumbler of water when his hand made contact.

There wasn’t much liquid left, but Keith downed it anyway. To his relief, he successfully curbed the coughing fit, but his throat was left raw and abused in its wake. To make matters worse, he could no longer breathe through his nose.

 _Fuck_ , he wanted to move. He wanted to feel warm again. He wanted more water. But he was pinned down by a wall of dizziness that threatened to take his consciousness every time he lifted his head. 

There was no longer any doubt that whatever he had was bad. But even as the chilling whine of the desert’s fury filled his ears, he refused to succumb to fear. 

Because he _wasn’t_ scared.

_**BANG!** _

Keith jolted - craning his neck toward the source of the impact. Something heavy crashed into a wall near his door. Keith let out a shaky breath.

But he _really_ wasn’t scared.

The higher his fever crept, the more his brain fogged. He felt drunk under the heat his body was creating. This was...dangerous, wasn’t it? How hot was life-threatening, again? He needed to cool himself off fast; Shiro was so gonna lecture him --

...Shiro

Right.

Shiro was dead.

He was dead, wasn’t he? Keith had been dodging the acknowledgement for months, but he didn’t exactly have the means to run right now.

Shiro was...dead.

Shiro, the first person Keith had let matter in years…

He was never going to see him again.

How…

How was he supposed to live with that?

Shiro…

 _Shiro_ …

Another loud **_THUMP_** barreled into the house - jolting a miserable hiccup from Keith’s lips. He angrily scrubbed at his eyes with his blanket; fighting to regain control of his breathing.

He _wasn’t_ scared, dammit!

After all...there was no one left to care if he died here. No one batted an eye when he left the Garrison. Shiro was the only reason he was there to begin with. He would’ve followed him anywhere.

He had nothing before Shiro. He _was_ nothing without Shiro.

No one was going to come for him.

He couldn’t stop shaking. He was so fucking cold. 

God, and could that sandstorm _be_ any louder?

Whoever equated solitude with silence was an idiot. Solitude was the banshee’s cry of wind scratching at his windows; debris pounding against his shelter’s walls, begging for sanctuary. It was the strained creaking for stability of his surrounding structure. The cold, indifferent hum of his computer. The cruel mantra that his sadistic inner voice purred against his fevered mind over and over.

_Shiro is dead._

_Shiro is dead._

**_SLAM!_ **

Solitude may have been an absence of human voice, but it was in no way silent.

**_THUD!_ **

Solitude was noise.

**_BANG!_ **

Wicked, empty noise.

**_CRASH!_ **

But Keith...wasn’t scared.

**_THUMP!_ **

He...he wasn’t…

\----------

Voices.

He was hearing voices now.

Had he finally snapped?

Keith wanted to reach out to them; to ask for help, for some fucking _water_ , but he couldn’t push the words through his mouth. All he could manage was something between a grunt and a croak.

Wait...why couldn’t he see anything?

...Oh. His eyes were closed.

Sweet quiznak--

…

That word...he’d picked it up from…?

With a pained groan, Keith carefully let the room’s light slip past the protection of his lids. Once his glassy pupils had stopped protesting, the first thing he made sense of was Hunk standing in front of him; expression concerned, but lit up with a sunny smile nonetheless. He was holding a steaming bowl of alien... _something_ in his hands.

“Hey, man,” Hunk chuckled softly. “Finally comin’ back to us?”

_‘Us…?’_

Keith could tell his body currently lay a lump of useless against one of the castleship’s twin-sized beds, but the denim pillow pressed up against his cheek felt utterly out of place. With a weak sniffle, he tilted his head to meet a pair of blue eyes peering down at him with their own pinch of worry.

“Oh...hey, Lance,” Keith mumbled.

A long breath slipped from Lance’s mouth, but he still managed a teasing grin, “Glad to see you remembered me this time. First the Garrison, now this; I’m gonna have to start keeping a tally.”

A sharp sting of guilt pricked Keith’s chest. Had he made Lance feel bad? Fuck, why couldn’t he _remember_? 

Lance’s features softened, “Hey, dude, relax - I’m kidding.” Keith felt a hand thread through his hair, and he couldn’t help melting into it a little. “I’m glad you’re coming around though - Hunk made soup.”

Hunk shifted the bowl in his hand, “I scoped out some alien ingredients that are supposed to be easy on the stomach. You weren’t keeping anything down yesterday.”

“Yesterday…?” Keith narrowed his eyes. The cracked walls and cluttered corners of his desert shack were still so vividly encompassing his senses - he was having a hard time accepting that _that_ hadn’t been his ‘yesterday.’ Had that really been a dream? 

Keith looked slightly sheepish between his two friends, “Sorry, I...I think I’m still pretty out of it…”

Lance huffed a laugh, “No shit.” He ruffled Keith’s hair, “Don’t worry, Nurse Lance is here to make you all better.”

Keith somehow found the energy to smirk, “Why don’t I feel too optimistic?”

Lance scoffed, his hand dramatically finding his chest, “ _Excuse_! Do you want me to drop your sick ass on someone _else’s_ lap?” His lips quirked, “Coran was the next to offer~ Allura insists that ‘the tales from his sprightly youth are incredibly healing.’” Lance had emphasized the statement with a poor imitation of Allura’s accent.

Keith snorted, allowing himself to adjust a little more comfortably into Lance’s thigh, “I guess if you’re the _only_ alternative.” He hoped the quip counteracted his own shamelessness a little.

Before Lance could open his mouth to bite back, Hunk sighed loudly, “Okay guys - not to interrupt your flirting, but the soup’s getting cold.”

“But Huuuunk, flirting’s who I _am_!” Lance whined. Keith felt his chest skip - he’d been expecting Lance to sputter out a clumsy denial, not... _defend_ the accusation. Lance’s expression shifted into something gentle as he returned his gaze to Keith’s, doing _stupid_ things to his dumb heart in the process, “Do you think you can sit up?”

And because his dumb heart was feeling especially stupid, Keith replied, “Can I still, um...can I lay on your shoulder?”

Keith hadn’t been able to make eye contact, so it caught him off guard when Lance barked a laugh. But before Keith had the chance to brace himself for rejection, Lance tugged at his arm, “Get up here, you idiot.”

With Lance’s help, Keith managed to prop himself against the wall; his cocoon of blankets threatening to fall from his shoulders under the disturbance. Keith moved to readjust them, but a flash of green made him pause. He looked to Lance curiously, “Am I wearing your jacket?”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Lance stated as if it was the most normal thing in the universe. He at least had the decency to look a little flustered, though. “You were _cold_! I was _helping_!”

Okay, could Lance just _not_ be the most adorable thing in the cosmos right now? Keith’s fevered mind didn’t have the strength to keep his own spiking brain chemicals at bay.

“Well, um...thanks,” Keith said awkwardly. Pulling his blankets tightly around himself, he shifted closer to Lance’s side. Lance held out a welcoming arm; resting it across Keith’s shoulders while the smaller male rested his chin against Lance’s lean shoulder. 

It took him a moment to relax into this position - he hadn’t been this close to Lance since he’d been the one miserably sick. Even though it was probably only a few weeks ago, it felt like it’d been longer. They hadn’t talked about the abundant amount of cuddling they’d done through that, but it hadn’t kicked up an air of awkwardness between them. If anything, Keith felt closer to him, more secure in their camaraderie.

Keith’s eyes flicked to Hunk, who’d patiently been waiting for them to get settled. There was something knowing and affectionate in his expression, but he didn’t let the two in on his musings. Instead, he finally held the bowl of soup out to Keith, “I really hope this helps, man.”

Keith took the bowl into his lap, regarding Hunk with a grateful smile, “Thanks, it looks great. I wish I could smell it.”

Hunk laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, “We’ll get you there; just take it easy.” His bright gaze moved between Keith and Lance for a moment before he casually stretched his arms above his head, “Weeeelp, as much as I’d love to stick around, I promised I’d help Pidge with some stuff this afternoon. Just give me a shout if you need anything though.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Lance chirped. “You’re the best.”

“Oh, _stop_ ,” Hunk laughed with a hand against a reddened cheek. Shaking his head, he crossed the room to the still-open door, leaving them with a “Don’t have _too_ much fun without me, now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Lance called as his best friend disappeared from sight.

Silence settled into their company, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Keith idly pushed the still-cooling soup around with his spoon; trying to gauge his own stomach’s stability. He knew he needed to eat something, but now that the opportunity was in front of him, he was having a hard time finding the idea appealing.   
He still felt pretty dehydrated, though. He carefully glanced Lance’s way, trying his best not to blush when he found the other male already watching him questioningly.

Keith cleared his throat, “Do you, uh...have any water on hand?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Lance dislodged himself from Keith for a moment to lean over the side of the bed. In that moment, the large glass of ice water he retrieved looked the closest thing to heaven Keith had ever seen.

Keith accepted it greedier than he intended to; crashing the plastic rim against his lips and sucking down the liquid relief in large gulps. He couldn’t even bring himself to care about how his throat stung in painful objection.

However, karma to his lack of grace was quick to swoop in on him. In his desperation, he’d accidentally tipped the glass a little too high, causing water splashing straight into his nose. With a harsh cough, he pulled the cup away from his face. Lance was immediately at his side; his hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

“You alright there, Samurai?” Lance laughed.

Keith blinked hard, and barely had enough time to cover his face before he lost himself in an embarrassing fit of sneezes. 

By the sixth or seventh, his body finally granted him freedom to catch his breath. Keith could feel how red his cheeks were, his mortification adding definition to the feverish hue he’d already been sporting. Hand still firmly locked against his face, he chanced a look to Lance, but regretted it immediately.

The amusement playing on Lance’s features made Keith wanna throw himself into space, “ _Bless_ you! I never pegged you the type for kitten sneezes~!””

“Shut up…” Keith groaned miserably; burying his shame into a wad of tissues. He wasn’t even sure when Lance had set those there.

“I will not~” Lance’s grin widened. “They’re too cute to ignore.”

_‘C-Cute?’_

With a pouty sniffle, he dropped his head back onto Lance’s shoulder. Lance touched his cheek to the top of Keith’s head before gingerly grabbing the handle of his neglected spoon. He scooped up a bit a bit of the soup and brought it to Keith’s lips, “So, you gonna eat, or am I gonna have to break out the train noises?”

Keith groaned a little as he glared at the spoon. It really _did_ look good, but his stomach still felt kinda weak…

His lag in response drew a dramatic sigh from Lance, “Open the tunnel, here comes the _traiiin_ \--”

Keith unceremoniously clamped his mouth around the spoon before Lance could baby him further. He had to admit; despite his dulled taste buds, Hunk had really outdone himself. Missing Earth food was becoming easier to deal with as time went, but Keith hadn’t been prepared for the pang of sadness that hit him as he realized how much he’d missed _Hunk’s_ cooking.

“Hey,” Lance’s voice was so soft, Keith had almost missed it. The arm casually resting against his shoulder blades shifted and Lance gave Keith’s upper arm a soft squeeze. “You doin’ okay, man?”

Keith forced a smile, “Aside from the mucous and fever?”

Lance rolled his eyes, but his smile was still gentle, “ _Yes_ , asshole, aside from that.”

“...Yeah, I mean,” Keith shrugged. “This just sucks.”

“ _Oh_ , believe me, I remember,” Lance chuckled. 

Keith picked his spoon up from Lance’s grasp and tentatively sipped another mouthful of soup, “I’m sorry you’re the one stuck on babysitting duty.”

Lance looked slightly taken aback, “Dude, no, I volunteered.”

“Seriously?”

“Well...yeah. You did it for me.” 

Keith nodded dumbly; unsure of what to add to that. He quietly stirred his soup for a moment before a thought crossed his mind. He raised a questioning brow to Lance, “How did you guys get me to the castle?”

Lance looked at him worriedly, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Keith bit his lip thoughtfully, “I was...in a mission briefing with the Blades. I was already starting to feel kinda shitty I think…”

“ _Kinda_?” Lance parroted incredulously. “Dude, you were lucky our teams met up when they did. You could barely stand, and it was still everything I could to do to pry you off the battlefield.”

Keith felt anxiety creep up on him, “Did the mission…?”

“Everything went _fine_ , we improvised,” Lance waved him off. “We’re like, the masters of wingin’ it by now.”

Though he was relieved, Keith’s face still fell, “Sorry to be a wrench in the plan…”

Lance responded with a sharp poke to Keith’s nose, “None of that, Mister Mullet. You don’t get to be sick _and_ emo, pick a struggle.”

Keith opened his mouth to bite back, but the feeling of soft, gentle fingers settling against his forehead effectively stole his retort. 

“Your fever’s finally starting to go down, at least,” Lance said, relief evident in his tone. “You...really had me worried yesterday.”

Keith sheepishly ducked his head, “Sorry…”

“It’s not your f-- _well_ ,” Lance’s gaze hardened, and he waved an accusatory finger in front of Keith’s face, “Agreeing to be part of a mission while you were feverish and delirious _was_ your fault. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. _Again_.”

“...Sorry,” Keith repeated lamely. He didn’t know what else to say - he knew Lance was right.

“It’s…” Lance sighed, “Fuck it, come here.”

Lance pulled Keith closer to him while he positioned himself against the wall at the head of the bed. He settled Keith between his legs so he could rest against Lance’s chest. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s middle and propped his chin onto his shoulder, watching him continue to struggle through the bowl of soup that was only growing colder.

“You worry me,” Lance grumbled again. “I don’t...we don’t wanna lose you to the Blades…”

“It’s not like they’re _trying_ to kill me,” Keith huffed defensively.

“No, but you haven’t exactly been attached to the idea of _living_ ever since you joined them,” Lance’s thumb began to work gentle circles against Keith’s abdomen. “Have you thought about just...coming back?”

Keith set his spoon a little too heavily into his bowl. Of _course_ he’d thought about coming back. Every single fucking day. But this was war, it wasn’t about what _he_ wanted.  
“I’m useful with the Blades,” Keith said evenly.

“Keith...buddy... _kitten_ ,” playfulness edged back into Lance’s voice. “Voltron could use your crazy samurai-ninja skills too. You practically don’t even need a Lion, man, you’re scary enough on the ground.”

Too exhausted to continue arguing, Keith allowed himself to smirk instead, “You know I have to tell everyone you finally admitted that, right?”

“How _dare_!” Lance gasped. “I told you that in _confidence_! And after all of the dirt your delirious ass divulged to me yesterday!”

“W- _What_?” Keith swallowed hard. There was no way this could be anything good. “What, uh...what did I say?”

“Oh, y’know, nothing _huge_ I guess~” Lance’s smirk twisted into something more devious as he leaned a little closer to Keith’s ear, “Just that you have the biggest raging crush on me, like, _ever._ ”

The bowl and all of its remaining contents nearly hit the floor.

“H-Hey! Don’t try to escape!” Lance adjusted his hold on Keith to keep his squirming body in place. Without an airlock to throw himself out of, Keith defaulted to ‘Avoidance Plan B,’ which simply involved burying his burning face into his hands. Lance tugged at his wrist, “Keeeiiiith~!”

Keith shook his head.

“Keith, c’mon man, look at me.”

“I-I can’t, alright?” Keith’s voice slipped weak and muffled between his fingers. “I _know_ how weird it is, so please just--”

“Keith,” the seriousness in Lance’s tone halted his wallowing. “Look at me.”

He did.

And Lance kissed him.

The action was gentle and chaste, but Lance took his time to caress Keith’s slightly chapped lips with his own. Keith had no idea what to do with his hands, so they hovered awkwardly in the air in front of him while he attempted to match Lance’s guiding movements. He was pretty sure his heart was trying to burst from his ribcage; the heat it sent throughout the rest of his body rivaling the fever he’d been battling.

He had chills, but they felt _good_.

His mouth was dry, but he couldn’t care less.

When Lance pulled back, he held Keith’s gaze for several ticks. Keith felt the affection pouring from them as though Lance were letting him into his mind. There was no judgement, no scorn, only acceptance that Keith didn’t entirely feel like he deserved.

Nevertheless, Lance’s features slid into an easy smile, a question swirling in the ocean of his pupils, “Okay?”

Keith breathed a shaky sigh and slowly nodded, cementing his understanding, “Okay…”

Just like that, any remaining tension was lost. Keith felt like he was breathing for the first time. And even though the castle’s oxygen was artificial, it felt fresh and cleansing in his lungs. 

Lance settled into telling Keith laid-back stories about his home on Earth so Keith could finally finish eating. It was surreal to him that an hour ago, he was still in the middle of his year-long desert exile. Now, his tiny little shack felt so far away. In place of deafening solitude was Lance’s soft voice. The quiet ring of his spoon grazing the bowl in his lap. The quick, rhythmic beating of Lance’s heart.

Love wasn’t silence, but it was peace. Love was all the little noises that quieted the storm in Keith’s chest and allowed life to return to its vibrancy.

And Keith was going to fight as hard as he needed to hold on to it.


End file.
